


Hurt

by Someday44



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Bonding, Enemies to Friends, Fenders February, Injury, M/M, Understanding, maybe pre-Fenders?, reference to past physical abuse, reference to past slavery, the trash will do fic, who heals the healer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someday44/pseuds/Someday44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is hurt during a quest and doesn’t want others to find out. Fenris notices however and offers to help out. They might have more in common than they thought and might even start to understand each other a little better. </p><p>This is a one-shot I did for Fenders February and decided to make a multiple chapter story from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many great writers out there and I couldn't help but get inspired from both the game and the whole fandom around it. I wrote this one-shot for Fenders February and I hope you guys like it. I can't say I wasn't inspired by some details I've read in other great fics and/or seen on Tumblr. My mind just loves this fandom so much that I can't help but write a story and add fanon bits as well. Thank you all great DA (and especially Fenders) writers! Please enjoy this trash!

**-Hurt-**  
  
  
  
  
"You're hurt."  
  
  
His voice was dark as chocolate, vibrating through the night to make the hairs on the mage's neck stand on edge. The words were more of a statement, rather than a question. Anders cringed.  
  
  
They had been following Hawke on a mission and were camping out on the Wounded Coast. It had been a long day of tracking a group of slavers into the caves and a heavy battle when they found them. The sun was already low when they had finally emerged from the depths of the caves. It had been a victory, but it had exhausted the whole party. Anders had opted to take the first shift keeping watch while the others slept. None of his tired companions had complained, setting up their tents and calling it a night. All except for a certain elf who preferred to be awake for as long as possible, as always.  
  
  
Said elf had just returned from gathering more firewood, which he dropped bluntly next to the mage, before seating himself on the ground nearby.  
  
  
The mage remained silent, absentmindedly probing the fire in front of him with a stick. The silence irked the elf immensely. He did not enjoy being ignored.  
  
  
Fenris had been watching him the whole way along the coast line. The way the taller man started gripping his staff a little tighter with every step, his knuckles eventually turning white from the effort. The way his face had paled and his pace had slowed, using his staff for support even though he tried to hide it behind a smile. The mage reeked of blood. And not that of his enemies. It could've fooled the others, but one simply couldn't deceive elvish eyes.  
  
  
Not to mention the lack of snappy comebacks.  
  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
  
Fenris sighed in exasperation. Then he reached for a small piece of wood he had gathered and tossed it at the blonde. The mage instinctively moved to either catch or deflect whatever was thrown his way, but halfway there, he yelped and cringed in pain, clutching his right arm to his chest.  
  
  
Fenris rolled his eyes to prove his point and threw a small log on the fire.  
  
  
"Why don't you heal yourself?"  
  
  
The mage choked a breath and trembled. "I can't." Anders found himself answering truthfully through gritted teeth before he could stop himself. The stinging pain left him cringing, hugging his arm tightly to his chest until the wave of pain faded away. The pain took up too much of his mind to make snappy comebacks at the elf now.  
  
  
Fenris quirked an eyebrow, a bit annoyed. "What do you mean, you can't?"  
  
  
"I managed to stop the bleeding, but... something's... stuck... it's preventing me from healing it." The mage admitted, gritting his teeth.  
  
  
"And how exactly were you planning on solving this?" The elf questioned, crossing his arms defiantly. Sometimes he could swear he was babysitting the lot of them.  
  
  
"Finding a spell that would make you shut up would be a first step." Anders snapped, regaining some of his posture.  
  
  
That made the elf smirk. "Allow me to help you out of your misery." He suggested.  
  
  
"Ha ha. Very funny." It was Anders who rolled his eyes this time. "Death threats aren't really helping right now."  
  
  
Fenris frowned. "I'm serious, mage. Allow me to help." The elf could slowly feel anger starting to boil again. "I'm not offering you twice."  
  
  
That made Anders' eyes widen a little in surprise. "Y-you're serious?"  
  
  
The warrior let out an annoyed sigh and made to stand up and walk away, but the mage stopped him. His fingers reached out to grab his arm, but then he stopped, knowing how much Fenris hated to be touched. "Wait! I..." Casting his eyes down, he seemed hesitant. But Anders knew it was stubborn not to let anyone help him.  
  
  
"What do you need, mage?" The elf's dark voice commanded, lowering himself back down again, green eyes staring at the mage intently, waiting. It sent a shiver down the blonde's spine. It had been a long time since anyone had looked him straight in the eye like this. He knew his companions loved him dearly, but he could also sense their slight fear for the spirit slumbering inside of him. Fenris however, always met his gaze head on, without hesitation. It triggered something in him, but Anders wasn't sure if he appreciated or feared this fact.  
  
  
A quick glance at the tents told the blonde that the others were sound asleep. It was just him and the broody elf now. His fingers dug into his feathered coat as he continued to hug his arm to his chest. The feathers had managed to obscure the bloodstain on his shoulder perfectly, but the ache inside was slowly becoming unbearable. Suddenly he felt extremely uncomfortable under the elf's gaze. It was a known fact that the mage never undressed with anyone present, not even when they were out on a quest. He had good reasons to. Reasons he wasn't sure he was ready to share yet. Especially with not-too-friendly elves staring at him as if waiting for him to grow a second head. Maybe he should wait until they were back at Kirkwall after all and have Lirene take a look at it--  
  
  
He winced as a sharp pain shot through him and his body cringed on instinct, gritting his teeth to stifle any more pitiful noises from escaping his lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Justice stirred, but Anders quickly shushed him. _I can handle this._  
  
  
  
  
Fenris watched the mage's inner struggle intently, wondering why it was taking the mage so long to tell him what he needed. The elf disliked not knowing what to do. It made him feel a strange kind of useless as he waited. At the same time he could read from the mage's face that he wasn't keeping him waiting without reason. There was something the blonde wasn't telling him. He studied the way the mage's hands were clutching his coat, not just from pain, but a different kind of discomfort. His green eyes softened a little as he realized it was a discomfort he recognized. Fenris had always had his suspicions about the mage. He guessed he was about to find out.  
  
  
"Would you trust me if I told you I will not stare or ask?" his dark voice offered, his tone lacking the edge it usually had.  
  
  
The mage looked up and stared at him in disbelief, wondering if he heard wrong. It made the warrior look away gruffly. Being nice to the mage made him irky. "Because I will not." he added, crossing his arms once again in a failed attempt to look casual. Somehow the mage was making _him_ uncomfortable.  
  
  
  
  
Anders was taken aback. He peered at the warrior's turned away face, his eyes quickly attracted to the white lines adorning his chin, flowing freely down his throat and disappearing beneath his shirt and armor. The softly glowing markings had always attracted him. Or rather, had attracted Justice.  
  
  
At some point Anders realized he was staring and with a trace of guilt, he understood. He could only imagine what Fenris had been through as a slave. Being paraded in front of Danarius' guest as his most prized pet. Having to show of what the magister had done to his body, with strangers' eyes roaming everywhere they pleased... He shivered.  
  
  
He pondered for a moment and bit his lip. If there was anyone in this makerforsaken place who knew how he felt, it would, surprisingly, be the broody tattooed elf next to him.  
  
  
"I do trust you." Anders spoke softly, deciding he did. If anyone would honor his words not to stare or question, it would be Fenris. To support his own words with actions, he carefully started to undo the buckles of his coat with his good hand. He was grateful the warrior didn't offer to help him with it. He was feeling like a fool enough already. Slowly, very slowly, all buckles were undone and with some difficulty he shrugged off his beloved feathered topcoat and the longer armored coat beneath.  
  
  
Left in his thin undershirt, the bloodstain on his shoulder was far more obvious. Most of it had dried already, as Anders had managed to stop the bleeding some time ago, but it had stained the bigger part of his back and right sleeve. Moving his injured shoulder more than he had to, made him grit his teeth as he fought against the pain, and he took a moment to recollect himself, clutching a hand to his shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
"Tch. Hawke is going to be pissed if they find out." The elf commented as he eyed him.  
  
  
The blonde shot him a look and the warrior instantly regretted his comment. He knew the situation was delicate and he quickly bit his tongue.  
  
  
"I apologize." The white haired elf offered. "Please, tell me what must be done."  
  
  
He had watched Anders heal his companions' injuries countless of times before, the magic making it seem so easy. He himself preferred healing by natural means. Surely, it took longer for him to heal, but he simply couldn't stand to feel the touch of magic to his skin.  
  
  
  
  
Taking a few moments to regain his composure, the pain in the mage's shoulder soon faded to a dull throb. Taking off his coat had both lifted a weight from his shoulders, quite literally, as well as made him feel exposed. It had been a long time since anyone had seen his bare form. His thoughts drifted to Karl for a moment. Sweet, beautiful Karl, who accepted and loved him, despite all his flaws and imperfections. Closing his eyes, he quickly pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn't want to bury himself in painful memories now.  
  
  
Leaving his eyes closed, he slowly reached for the hem of his undershirt and carefully started to lift it up. Gritting his teeth, he managed to move his right arm so he could lift the shirt over his head. Whatever was stuck in his shoulder stabbed painfully beside his shoulderblade and he couldn't help a wince from escaping his lips. Breathing heavily with the effort, he brought his arms back down, shuddering and taking a moment to catch his breath.  
  
  
  
  
The harsh shadows created by the fire shaded most of Anders' form, but one glance had told Fenris enough. Without his coat, the mage looked thin. Slightly malnourished even. Long, thin scars covered most of his lean upper body. Some were bigger, some darker than others, but most of them were centered on his back. It was... an astonishing sight and Fenris realized how private this moment was. The look on the mage's averted gaze was unreadable, but the way he clutched his stained shirt quickly made the warrior remember his promise not to stare or question. Getting to his feet in silence, he moved behind the mage to take a look at the wound, crouching behind him as he did so.  
  
  
"What do you see?" Anders questioned quietly, a bit gingerly maybe.  
  
  
Studying the wound without actually touching it, Fenris hummed in thought. Surrounded by angry, flaming skin, just beside Anders' right shoulder blade, something protruded that looked like the tip of an arrow. It looked like it had dug deep into the skin and must have broken off during the fight, unable for the mage to reach it.  
  
  
"It looks like an arrow head." He informed the mage and the blonde nodded, fearing as much.  
  
  
"Can you... remove it?" Anders asked, hands trembling just the slightest.  
  
  
Fenris glanced back at the arrow, judging whether the piece of wood was long enough for him to get a firm hold on. "It's going to hurt, mage."  
  
  
Anders grimaced and merely nodded, bracing himself. Behind him, he heard Fenris taking off his gauntlets and heard them drop to the ground heavily. Then suddenly the elf's hand appeared in his vision, presenting him something. "Bite this." The elf ordered from behind him and Anders realized it was one of the leather straps of one of his gauntlets.  
  
  
"J-Just do it." The mage answered, but accepted the piece of leather and quickly clenched it between his teeth. It would keep him from crying out and waking the others at least. Leaning forward a little, he brushed his hair to the side to give the warrior a little more space.  
  
  
  
  
"As you wish." The elf answered, before carefully gripping the end of the arrow tightly. The mage's skin trembled beneath his fingers, the skin around the wound raw and starting to bleed again slightly. Another scar to join the many others that adorned his back. Fenris had promised not to question, but he couldn't help his mind from wondering how Anders had gotten them. They didn't all look like battle scars to him, the wounds too shallow and reoccurring to be caused by swords or other weapons. They reminded him more of the whip marks he had seen on his fellow slaves in Tevinter.  
  
  
He recalled the mage speaking to Hawke about his many escapes from the Tower. Did the templars really succumb to medieval ways of punishing? Or had he obtained them elsewhere? Either way, it stirred a slumbering anger inside of the ex-slave. The feeling confused him. Didn't he always say he could care less about the mage? Yet still, the great feeling of injustice fueled an anger inside of him he hadn't known was there.  
  
  
Gripping the arrow head tightly, he allowed the mage one more breath to prepare himself. Then, with one powerful tug, he ripped the sharp object free.  
  
  
  
  
Anders knew it was coming, but the overwhelming, mind blowing pain made his vision go white. His scream was muffled by the dark leather he kept clenched between his teeth and he hunched over forward, gripping his shoulder. Quickly tapping into his magic, he sent a blue, glowing healing spell into the burning flesh, soothing the pain and knitting the flesh back together. He sat like that for a while, his forehead touching the cool ground as his magic closed the wound, breathing heavily.  
  
  
Just as he thought he was going to faint from the effort, he was pulled back to reality when something soft and heavy was draped over his back. Glancing up painfully, but surprised, he saw Fenris covering his bare back with the coat he had discarded earlier. Once again obscuring his body from the world. The blonde hugged it around himself gratefully.  
  
  
The warrior quickly turned away, averting his gaze and discarding the arrow head into the fire.  
  
  
"Go get some sleep, mage. I'll take the next shift."  
  
  
The blonde nodded tiredly, but a relieved smile graced his features. Slowly sitting back up again, his amber eyes caught Fenris' moss green ones for a brief moment.  
  
  
"Thank you, Fenris."  
  
  
The broody elf shrugged it off with a simple nod and busied himself with throwing more wood on the fire. If he wasn't in so much pain, Anders would've found the sight of the warrior not knowing how to handle unexpected praise, quite amusing.  
  
  
Fenris had kept his promise. There were no stares, no questions, no pity. It was as much respect as anyone could give him and Anders was thankful for it. As he drifted off to sleep in his tent, he wondered if this would change things between them.  
  
  
Outside, a certain elf was wondering the same thing.  
  



	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but... inspiration happened, so prepare for more chapters! (probably 4 in total). Thank you for all the nice comments! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Fenris stared at the mouldy ceiling of his borrowed mansion. The shadows created by the crackling fire in the fire place danced on it chaotically, much like the thoughts in his own mind. He had been trying to fall asleep for hours, but sleep simply wouldn't claim him. His mind kept rethinking what had happened the night before, while they were camping out on the Wounded Coast. It felt strange, earning the mage's trust. He would never before, have thought he would have offered such trust to the blonde in the first place. He frowned at the realization, finding it utterly confusing. He had formed a bond of _trust_ with a _mage_ , nonetheless. Was this it? Was he finally getting soft around mages? Tension crept into his shoulders at the mere thought. He could not let his guard down. He could not!  
  
  
He growled and turned to his side to find a more comfortable position in his poor excuse of a bed, only to get frustrated when he could find none. Twisting and turning until he finally buried his head under his pillow.  
  
  
Mages were cunning and corruptible. He thought he knew what was the truth about them, but now he was questioning his own beliefs. Was this all a scheme to throw him off his game? If so, it was definitely working. The elf had promised not to ask about what he had seen, but he couldn't simply erase the image from his mind. He had to know. He had to know the truth about the scars and where Anders had gotten them. He needed to know whether his beliefs about mages were still right.  
  
  
Letting out a growl of frustration, he gave in and decided to give up on sleep. Throwing off his blankets, he grabbed for his sword and stomped to the doorway and out into the streets. The cool night's breeze brushed over his dark skin unnoticed. He didn't even bother putting on his armor, pitying the fool who dared to cross him tonight.  
  
  
  
  
In a different part of town, another person had not been able to find sleep that night. Not that Anders had even tried to sleep, really. Working around the clock in his clinic, going on quests on the side with Hawke, all the while fighting for mage rights... there was hardly any time left to sleep. Even though it was tiring, he had gotten used to it by now. Justice spurred him on to push himself for their cause and he knew he was doing the right thing. If doing the right thing meant sacrificing a few hours of sleep, then so be it. There were worse fates in this world, he knew all too well, and he was fighting hard to put a stop to it.  
  
  
The candle on his wooden desk flickered in the breeze from the crack in the window as he continued working on his manifesto. The people needed to know the truth about the mages. About the circles and the Templars and the Chantry. Someone needed to stand up to them. They needed change. His heart bled for all the mages still stripped from their freedom and hidden away in the shadows of the circles. He still had friends there. All cowering at the threat of being made Tranquil. It made his blood boil and he eagerly scribbled on the faded parchment before him.  
  
  
He needed to make people see that what he was preaching wasn't rubbish. Strong people who others would listen to. He felt blessed that Hawke had pledged they stood on his side, but he needed to convince more people. They would have strength in numbers. Even the Templars would not be able to withstand the call of the people if the majority voiced its opinion. He needed mages to fight. To stand up for their rights. The way things were could no longer be. Something had to give. And he needed strong, non-mage people to support him. People like Varric, Aveline, ... Fenris.  
  
  
Unwillingly his tired mind traveled back to the night before. His shoulder still throbbed in the place where he had been wounded, but it was nowhere near the pain he had suffered the night before. Reaching back, he traced the edges of the new skin with his fingers as far as he could reach it. He wondered if it would scar. Not that it mattered. He still couldn't believe the trust Fenris had offered him and he had agreed to believe him. It wasn't that he'd had much choice, but still. It was a delicate situation. Never before had he shown anyone what lay beneath his feathered coat. The fact that the mage-hating warrior now knew something private about him, made him... uncomfortable. Even though the elf had kept his word and had not questioned, he couldn't be certain he would keep his secret. His intentions had seemed sincere, but one couldn't deny the fact that the elf hated his guts.  
  
  
**_"He is distracting you."_** Justice rumbled in the back of his mind.  
  
  
"No he isn't." Anders countered irritably. Picking his quill back up again, he continued scribbling into the night.  
  
  
He was interrupted however when a sudden gust in the breeze blew out his candle and left him in the dark. A stab of panic hit him at the sudden darkness and he hurriedly summoned a wisp of fire in his hands and quickly relit the candle. The blonde breathed a sigh of relief when the room was properly lit again. A change in the breeze usually announced guests. A patient to his clinic maybe? At this hour of the night it could only mean an emergency. But he was cautious, it could also be Templars, after all. Reaching for his staff, he silently made his way to the door, mentally preparing for anything that could be on the other side. However, he wasn't prepared for who he found when he opened the door.  
  
  
  
  
Fenris didn't know why he had come here. He had decided a thorough stroll and some fresh night air might clear his head, but instead his bare feet had betrayed him and led him straight to Anders' clinic. He stood in front of the big wooden doors for what felt like ages, wondering if he should knock. But the mage was probably asleep right know and certainly not in the mood to answer questions he'd promised he wouldn't ask in the first place. Clenching his teeth and cursing at his own disrupted mind, he turned straight on his heel and made to stomp away again when suddenly the sound of a door opening made his heart leap and his body freeze in place. When he turned, he was greeted by an equally dumbfounded blonde mage. After all the things that had run through his mind that night, Fenris found himself at a loss for words or explanations.  
  
  
"Fenris?" The mage questioned in surprise. He clearly wondered why the elf would go all the way to Dark Town in the middle of the night, dressed in but a simple light tunic, to stand in front of his door. The elf didn't even know himself and he averted his gaze into the darkness of their surroundings, hoping to find any kind of excuse that would explain why he was there, but finding none.  
  
  
"W-would you like to come in?" He heard the mage offer and his gaze snapped back at the taller man, incredulously. _Did he?_  
  
  
The mage already stepped aside and held the door open for him. Peering inside, the clinic seemed to be empty, save for a lonely candle lighting up the room at a messy desk. The warrior couldn't turn back now. Nodding his head once, he accepted the invitation and stepped inside.  
  
  
"How is your shoulder?" The elf's dark voice asked as the mage closed and locked the door behind him.  
  
  
The mage offered him a tired smile, which made the elf look away a bit embarrassed. "It's much better, thank you." The taller man gestured for him to take a seat at his old wooden desk, quickly stacking up the papers he was writing and setting them aside messily. Not knowing what to do, Fenris simply accepted the offer and sat down on a wooded chair next to the desk.  
  
  
  
  
"Would you like something to drink?" Anders asked as he busied himself with rummaging around, trying to remember if he even had anything to offer his guest. "Don't have beer or wine I'm afraid, but I could make us some tea? The Wardens always said I made a killer herbal tea. Have you ever tried any? I hope I have some ingredients though..." The mage knew he was rambling, but Fenris' green eyes following him around made him extremely nervous. The elf already knew something secret about Anders, what more did the elf want?  
  
  
Grabbing two semi-presentable mugs, he quickly set some water to boil and added whatever herbs he could find (so far only a few buds of chamomile and two sticks of cinnamon). It would have to do for tonight. Returning to the desk with the steaming mugs, he offered one to the elf and took a seat opposite of him, where he had been writing earlier. They sat in silence for a moment, both waiting for the other to say something but neither knowing what to say. Anders had never been one for subtlety, so when the tension became too much, he decided to get straight to the point.  
  
  
"Why are you here, Fenris?"  
  
  
  
  
Fenris had been silently hugging the slightly cracked mug in both hands, savouring the warmth of its contents. The tea seemed too light compared to the alcohol he usually consumed, but it had a nice fragrance. When Anders addressed him, his green eyes shot up to meet the other's amber gaze. Shifting in his seat, he averted his gaze with a frown. Never before had he struggled to find the right words as he did now and it frustrated him. He gritted his teeth and his hold on the mug tightened into a death grip, as his mind failed to describe the utter feeling of... confusion and ... sympathy? And above all fear. Fear that the mage was tricking him. Fear that he was played the fool for questioning his own beliefs. But also fear that all he thought he knew about mages was wrong.  
  
  
  
  
Anders watched the brooding elf with growing impatience. What was the blighted elf doing here in the middle of the night if he wasn't going to say anything? Was he just going to sit there and gloat in knowing he knew something about the mage that nobody else did? Not only had he allowed the warrior to see him in a vulnerable state, but now the elf had to invade his privacy in his own clinic and rub it in his face too? They had never been friends in the first place, so to have him sit across from his table, drinking blighted _tea_ with him... something wasn't right. He had given up trying to change Fenris' mind about mages long ago. He couldn't exactly blame Fenris for his beliefs, given his history with magisters, but it also meant they could never be friends. Companions during Hawke's quests maybe, but never friends.  
  
  
"Listen, Fenris--" The blonde started as the silence became too unbearable, but the elf's hand quickly shot up to shush him. Anders sighed in exasperation and took a swig from his tea. His ears perked however, when the elf finally started to speak.  
  
  
  
  
"Mage," The warrior gritted his teeth, unable to meet Anders gaze as he finally found an assembly of words that would satisfy his raging mind for now, "I... want to... know more, about... _you_."


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maker, you guys. I can't believe how many kudos and comments this story has received so far. Really guys, wow, you blew my mind *blushes like mad* You really inspired me to continue, thank you! Lovely to meet you all! Please enjoy this next chapter and tell me what you think!

_"I... want to... know more, about... you."  
_  
  
There, he said it. He let out a breath that relieved some of the tension he was feeling. It was the best he could offer the mage right now. He wouldn't question what he had seen the night before, as he had promised, but he did voice the nagging curiosity he had been feeling ever since. He knew he hadn't listened to Anders in the past, but now... he was interested in how Anders had come to be the way he was.  
  
  
  
  
"...W-what?" The mage questioned, dumbfounded. Of all the things he had expected from Fenris, this had been the last. Had his tiredness finally caught up with him and had he heard wrong? That had to be it. Green eyes snapped up at his question and once again met his gaze head on.  
  
  
"I want to know more about you." The elf repeated, a bit irritated, perhaps for having to repeat himself, but perhaps as well for having to admit this.  
  
  
The mage sat back in his chair, tension leaving him when he saw the sincerity in the warrior's eyes. It perked his own curiosity as to why the sudden interest, but he wasn't complaining. Their constant fighting had become a burden and if Fenris was willing to talk, Anders would be the last one to argue. He had one condition though. If Fenris was asking him to open up, it was only fair if he did the same.  
  
  
"How about a question for a question?" The blonde offered.  
  
  
The elf seemed to think this over for a bit, but then nodded. "That seems fair."  
  
  
The mage grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Good. What do you want to know?" He gazed at the other in anticipation. He wasn't sure if he wanted to answer any of the questions the elf would throw at him, but he was certainly curious to why the elf was interested.  
  
  
  
  
Fenris thought about it for a moment, but thought it was best to start at the beginning. "Where are you from? Originally, I mean."  
  
  
  
  
The question caught the blonde by surprise. He had expected Fenris to go straight for direct questions and maybe even accusations. But he guessed he was alright with answering trivial questions like this. He allowed his mind to flood with hazy memories of him hometown for a moment. "The Anderfels." He sighed, the memories were both lovely and painful. "I don't remember much of it, but I remember running through fields of green and rolling down hills while the sun kissed our skin in the summer." He didn't want to dwell on it too long, so he diverted the question. "What about you?"  
  
  
Fenris turned his gaze to his feet. He wasn't going to be good at this game, with his memories from before he received his markings, still in shambles. "I... don't remember much from my life before." He spoke in his dark voice, inspecting his hands as his lyrium markings caught in the candle light. "I've been told I was born into slavery in Tevinter, but I have no way to prove those claims."  
  
  
Anders nodded understandingly. He had heard Fenris talk to Hawke before about losing his memory after he received those intricate markings from his former master. "Your turn." He gently encouraged him. Seeing this side of Fenris made the mage all kinds of curious about the other too.  
  
  
Offering his next question a little quicker this time, his curiousity equally peeked, Fenris looked up at the mage again. "In the Anderfels... Was that where you first discovered your... magical abilities?"  
  
  
Anders chuckled. "Yes. I, err, accidently set a barn on fire..." He rubbed the back of his neck a bit embarrassedly as he recalled the whole ordeal. He was quite the talk of the town after that. Unfortunately it all went downhill from there.  
  
  
Fenris stared at the mage for a second, then let out a snort. "Yes, that sounds like you."  
  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
  
  
They talked all through the night, questioning each other with equal curiousity. Anders told Fenris about discovering his abilities and having to be taken away to live in the Circle. His many escape attempts. His time as a Grey Warden. In return, Fenris told him about his life as Danarius' slave and his escape. They avoided going too deep into things, both their pasts existing of painful memories and not ready to share those yet. But both men started to feel a bit more comfortable around each other than before.  
  
  
Their nightly meetings continued in the following weeks. Both men coming to enjoy the other's company little by little. Fenris had brought it upon himself to bring Anders food for every meeting. He was starting to dislike seeing the mage exhaust himself in his clinic without properly eating. Strangely enough, he was starting to understand the mage more and more. Even moreso, he started to understand Anders' dislike for the Circle, Chantry and Templars. The elf couldn't tell why, but he believed what Anders told him. Some stories were too... cruel, to be made up.  
  
  
In Tevinter, mages ruled all. No one dared to oppose them, afraid of what they were capable of. But from what Fenris learned from Anders' stories, mages were treated quite the opposite outside of Tevinter. Of course the warrior had seen it, thinking it was what the mages deserved, when he had stepped foot into Kirkwall. He realized now that he had let his anger and strive for vengeance cloud his vision to what was really happening: mages were treated like dirt. Sometimes even worse than slaves. Being taken from their homes and forced into the Circles. Some Circles were fine, Anders told him, but others... they had left their scars on him, both mentally and physically.  
  
  
  
  
If Fenris had any last doubts about his words, they were proven one night when they were so caught up in their conversation that they had forgotten about the nearly burned up candle lighting the room. With a flicker, it died out on them and left them in sudden darkness. The mage couldn't suppress a yelp and Fenris could hear him panic in the dark, tumbling over the chair he was sitting in. There was a rustle as he scrambled on the floor in his rush to find a new candle. The elf could see him trying to desperately summon a wisp of fire in his hands to aid his search in the darkness, but only managing a few sparks as his hands had started shaking. Watching him from the darkness, Fenris could only guess what terrified the other so. Closing his eyes, he frowned in discomfort as he activated his lyrium brands. The lines along his skin silently started to glow a faint blue light, just enough to light up the area they were sitting in.  
  
  
The blue of his markings were reflected in amber eyes. Fenris was met with the disgruntled sight of Anders on the clinic floor, looking up at him with panic in his eyes. Fenris could see the mage tremble in fear of an unknown enemy, which it wasn't him. The blonde seemed torn for a moment, wanting nothing else but to cling to this new source of light, but deciding against it. He then clumsily jumped to his feet and started searching a nearby cabinet for a new candle.  
  
  
When the blonde finally found one, he returned to the desk, where the warrior had remained motionless. The elf had observed him with strange fascination, wondering what it could be that had gotten the mage terrified out of his skin. Green eyes watched as the other's shaking hands once again tried to light the candle, hands not still enough to set the small bud of the candle aflame. In the end, Fenris reached over and covered Anders' hands with one of his own, stilling his desperate movements. Reaching for a small matchbox on the desk, he lit a match instead. With quiet, controlled movements, Fenris finally lit the candle, lighting up the room with a strange mixture of the candle's warm glow and his cool blue lyrium markings.  
  
  
  
  
Anders audibly sighed in relief and covered his face in his trembling hands as he tried to get his breathing and heart rate back under control. His lungs and heart desperately tried to keep up with the panic he was feeling. Feeling around with one hand for his chair, he slowly let himself sink back into it as he tried to regain control over his body.  
  
  
"Breathe, mage." A dark voice across from him gently reminded him. Anders complied, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to regain control of himself again.  
  
  
"What was that all about, mage?" The same dark voice questioned when the other's breathing evened out, his question layered with a hint of concern.  
  
  
Anders took a few more breaths to calm himself before answering. "I... err... I'm sorry you had to see that." He said, raking his trembling fingers through his unkempt hair and staring at the floor. "Old fears die hard, I guess."  
  
  
"This isn't a childhood fear." Fenris stated, gaze fixated on the mage.  
  
  
Anders paused, determining whether he wanted to cross this line in their newfound companionship or not. The cat was already out of the bag, he guessed, there was little point in hiding it now. Exhaling slowly, he uprighted himself as he recalled that painful memory he had been avoiding thinking about for years. He sighed and averted his gaze. "During my next-to-last escape from the Circle, I was eventually captured." He took a moment to find the words, struggling a bit to get them from his lips. He had never talked to anyone about this. "As punishment, they put me in solitary confinement. In darkness." He took another breath. "For a year."  
  
  
  
  
Fenris was taken aback. A year? _A full year_ of being locked away in solitary confinement? Fenris had learned one could go mad from being in solitary confinement for even a few days, not to mention what a few weeks, months or even a full year could do to a person. He was amazed to even be sitting across from the mage now, having polite conversation with him. It struck him right then like a thunderbolt; a sudden sense of respect for Anders he couldn't exactly put to words. The ex-slave was amazed how determined and strong minded Anders had to be, to be able to escape the Circle so many times and succeeding. To fight not only for his own freedom but for those of others as well. All he wanted was _freedom_. He realized right then how much they were alike and Fenris suddenly felt ashamed of his past behaviour.  
  
  
"I... am sorry this happened to you." Fenris whispered, brows furrowing in concern.  
  
  
  
  
Anders managed a weak smile, but was surprised when one of Fenris' slender tattooed hands slid over and hesitantly covered one of his own. His brands were still lit, aiding the lone candle in their attempt to light up the room.  
  
  
"You are not alone this time. We will not let this happen to you again." The elf's dark voice promised and Anders smiled at his words.  
  
  
"You can stop your brands now." The blonde quietly told him. Charmed by this sudden act of kindness. "I know they hurt you when you light them. I can sense it." He had felt it during every battle, the pull of the lyrium in his skin and the agony it caused the other to use them. Even now. He didn't want the warrior to hurt himself because of him.  
  
  
"I can manage." Fenris told him shortly. "Tell me more about what happened." Talking seemed to calm the mage, even if he did ramble a lot when he got nervous.  
  
  
Still shaken up, Anders decided to tell him the whole story. Of the darkness. The quietness. The cold. The hunger. The longing for anyone, anything, to interact with him. Of the cruelty of his captors and his longing to break free. He told him of Mr. Wiggums, the only friend he had back then and who helped him survive. He talked way into the night, the elf letting him and listening intently. Talking about it helped and he could slowly feel a weight being lifted off his shoulders. Not fully. Never fully. But it did offer some temporary relief.  
  
  
  
  
"Will you be alright, mage?" Fenris questioned when morning came and he was about to step through the door to leave to catch a few hours of sleep in his borrowed mansion.  
  
  
The blonde offered him a tired smile. "Yes." He nodded. But when the elf made to walk away, he stopped him. "Fenris! ... I-I guess... thank you for listening."  
  
  
The warrior nodded in return and left, once again uncertain how to handle the mage's gratitude.  
  
  
Fenris returned to his mansion, but lay awake for a few more hours, his mind racing with questions once again. Getting to know the mage was confusing. Why was he suddenly so interested in the mage? Why was the mage interested in him as well? He had no doubts anymore that Anders was telling him the truth. But where did that leave him? From what Anders had told him, he could only draw his own conclusions: mages were weak. Incredibly weak and terrified. And if they weren't protected, they would search for corrupting means to defend themselves. They didn't need to be protected from themselves, but from the fearful people around them. Fear only led to more fear from both sides, and fearful men turned to strange ways to feel safe. It seemed evident the system they knew was flawed. And it wouldn't be easy to change people's minds. The elf could only respect Anders for even trying.  
  
  
And then a question crossed his mind, he never thought he would ever consider: when free, could magic truly be used for good, if a mage chose to?  
  
  
This question both terrified and fascinated him.  
  
  
  
  
A few nights after that, they were sitting in the clinic again, but the elf seemed awfully quiet to the mage. His brows furrowed together in thought, circling a mug of tea round and round in his hands absentmindedly.  
  
  
"I can practically hear you brooding, Fenris." Anders said as he sat down in his chair next to him. "What's up?"  
  
  
"I... I want to try something." Fenris mumbled softly. "If that's alright with you."  
  
  
Anders stared at him in surprise and then nodded slowly, unsure what to expect.  
  
  
Reaching back, the warrior retrieved a small dagger from his belt. The one he always kept near, as a backup, should his sword fail.  
  
  
Anders watched intently but with mild concern as the blade flashed in the light of the candle and the elf slowly brought it to one of his lyrium lined index fingers. In a smooth movement and without flinching, he made a vertical cut at the tip of his finger. For a moment the blonde wondered if the warrior had actually lost his mind, but already the healer in him had a feeling of worry wash over him.  
  
  
Dark red blood pushed up from the wound and started dripping along the elf's slender finger as he hesitantly offered it to the mage.  
  
  
"Could you... try and heal me... please?"  
  
  
Anders was taken aback. Fenris had never asked anything like this before. He always chose natural ways of healing over magic, claiming it hurt him and he wanted nothing to do with it anymore.  
  
  
Realizing the warrior was testing his boundaries, Anders could only obey.  
  
  
Slowly reaching forward, he gently gathered the injured digit in his hands and summoned a soft blue healing spell around the shallow wound. The elf flinched as if burned at first, but then sternly forced himself to stay where he was. As the healing spell got to work, Anders couldn't help but notice the strong attraction between his spell and the lyrium lines beneath Fenris' skin, lighting up all the way as the magic spread, first through his fingers, then along his hand until even the lines along his wrist all the way to his elbow started to light up.  
  
  
When it was done, the elf quickly retrieved his hand, staring at it incredulously, before offering Anders the same look.  
  
  
"Are you alright?" Anders asked softly.  
  
  
"I... I have to go." The elf stated and abruptly stood, eyes darting around as if to grasp the concept of what had just happened. Before Anders could say another word, he had grabbed his sword and hurried out the door.  
  
  
  
  
Confused, Fenris wandered the streets, almost bumping into a pile of crates as he was too distracted to look where he was going. He kept glancing at his fingers incredulously, the wound completely gone as if it had never been there. The lyrium lines along his arm still tingled from the sensation. It had been unlike anything he had ever felt before. Instead of the searing pain his former master had used to punish him with, Anders' magic had actually... _soothed_ him. Instead of feeling like his brands were on fire, the blue healing magic had spread through his arm like dipping into a warm bath, calming and numbing the ever present sting of his markings.    
  
  
He could still feel his heart hammering in his chest as he recalled the feeling, before fear had gotten the better of him and he had fled like a coward. He gritted his teeth at his foolishness, but it was all so confusing. Actually befriending a mage... that's what they were now, right? And even daring to let the other use magic on him... it was a little too much to comprehend. Shaking his head, he decided to retreat to his mansion and think this over.  
  
  
  
  
The next day, he returned to the clinic, with the intend to apologize.   
  
  
But when he approached the building, he immediately sensed something was wrong.  
  
  
As he turned the corner, fear gripped him at the sight of the clinic's outside doors hanging off their hinges. A mixture of fear and panic made him speed up and look for the mage. When he stepped inside, he could see all the furniture had been upturned, pages of the Anders' manifesto flying around in the morning breeze, but no one there to pick them up. Anders was nowhere to be seen...  
  



	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! Fenris learns what happened to Anders, and Anders seems to be in a lot of trouble... Please enjoy this new chapter! And thank you for all the wonderful comments! They really really inspire me! Thank you!

"What are you working on?" Fenris remembered asking one night, referring to the large stacks of paper scattered around Anders' desk.  
  
  
"This?" The blonde gestured, putting his quill down. "This, is my life's work." he smiled somewhat proudly. "It's my manifesto. To tell people the truth about mages and the wrongdoings that befall them."  
  
  
The warrior had stared at him and then at the scribblings on the pieces of paper before him, trying to decipher any of them. But the marks on the paper kept their secrets to themselves, as he couldn't read them. Not for the first time, he had wished he could.  
  
  
  
  
Seeing the papers scattered carelessly around the clinic in the morning's breeze, makes the warrior move and pick up one of the pages. And then another. And another. And another, untill he has collected all the pages he could find into a disheveled pile. Whether it is complete, he doesn't know, neither what they say. But what he does know, is that they are important to the mage. A life's work. A goal worth striving for. Even if it is not his.  
  
  
With that in mind, he puts the stack of paper safely in his pack, not thrusting it laying around unguarded in this deserted place.  
  
  
_Where are you, mage?_  
  
  
Searching around for clues to what could've happened and any trail of the mage, he is suddenly interrupted by a rummaging sound from one of the cabinets. Heart leaping at the thought that Anders had been safely hiding behind the closet doors all along, he hurried to it and jerked open the doors. But instead of the mage, he was greeted by the fearful face of Lirene. Fenris recognises her as one of Anders' assistents.  
  
  
"It's alright." he spoke as he stepped away to give her room to climb out of her hiding place. "Whoever assaulted you is long gone."  
  
  
Tears stained her cheeks as she emerged, trembling hands grabbing onto his arm. "Please ser, please help! They took him. They took Anders to the Gallows!"  
  
  
That had the elf take a step back and reach for his sword on instinct.  
  
  
"Please ser," she begged him as he already started making his way towards the doors, "He didn't do anything wrong. He is a good man!"  
  
  
He paused at that in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder for a moment. "I know."  
  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
  
When Anders opens his eyes, there is darkness all around him. His mind is still hazy from the blow to his head, but the sudden realization sends a rush of adrenaline through him and he panics. He tries to move, but finds himself on his knees on the cold stone floor, his limbs chained, with his arms behind his back. _No no no no no_. He tries his magic, but with horror he realizes the chains are enchanted, draining his mana completely. He calls for Justice, but the enchantment seems to have even the spirit subdued.  
  
  
He does a quick scan of his surroundings. For as far as he can sense it, he seems to be locked in some kind of cell, but no one else seems to be present. Putting an effort into getting his panic under control, he then turns his attention to himself, evaluating the damage. Judging from his wooziness and pounding in his head, he has a small concussion at the least. One of the fingers of his right hand is broken, along with at least two of his lower ribs. They gave him one hell of a fight before they took him, but even with Justice coursing through his veins, he had simply been outnumbered by Templars.  
  
  
He takes a shuddering breath as the realization dawns on him. He is caught again, after all this time. _Shit._ He could only imagine what they would do to him now.  
  
  
There's a loud clanging sound on the other side of the room and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden noise. But he is almost thankful as the cell floods with light and he squints his eyes, only to realize just who is stepping inside.  
  
  
_Knight Commander Meredith._  
  
  
His initial panic turns straight into loathing as he meets her gaze.  
  
  
"Well well," she speaks as she approaches him like a lion approaches its prey. "You gave my templars quite some trouble, _apostate_."  
  
  
She reaches forward, her gaunlet shimmering in the light from the door as she harshly grabs his chin to make him look up at her. "It took us a while to find you, but now there is nowhere left for you to run." She almost grins in pride for being to one to capture the fugitive apostate after all this time. The pressure of her fingers on his chin intensify and he grits his teeth as he looks her in the eye. "Oh, come now. Don't look at me like that. You have yourself to blame for all this." She purses her lips as she pushes it a little further, "It's mages like you that make us keep such a tight leash."  
  
  
Anders glares up at her. But then she says something that hits home.  
  
  
"If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have to be so hard on all of you. All we want is to live in harmony. The harder you fight, the harder we fight back to protect this harmony." She says as she rubs her thumb over his chin a bit too harshly. "Deep down, you know this is the truth, don't you? Every child we take to the Circle. Every apostate we hunt with force. It is all because you dangerous mages keep resisting us wanting peace." She regards him with a fake sense of pity. Then she leans in close to his ear and pushes him off the edge. "It is because of you that other mages suffer."  
  
  
Anders' eyes widen. Her words echoing through his mind like poison.  
  
  
"But don't worry. Soon, you will not cause your fellow mages any more trouble." She releases her hold on him and straightens up, turning to leave. "The Chantry is done trying to tame you. I've received their approval and we will begin the Rite at sundown."  
  
  
Anders is left, staring wide-eyed at her retreating form, as the door closes with a heavy sound, leaving him engulfed in darkness once again. His cry of despair echoes off the walls, but is heard by none.  
  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
  
In no time Fenris finds himself nearing the Gallows. At his side are Hawke and Varric, intending to provide the much needed diversion. Even the ex-slave knows it would be suicide to go at this alone. And he realizes now even more than before, he isn't alone anymore. And neither is Anders.  
  
  
All it takes is the exchange of a simple understanding nod and they split up. Hawke and Varric head to the front gate, declaring loudly that they demand to speak with the knight commander. Fenris slips off into the shadows of a side alley, to access the building while the guards are distracted. While the building truly is a well-guarded fortress, no building is able to withstand 'that magical fisting thing' as Isabella likes to call it. If the situation wasn't so dire, he would have smirked at the thought, but right now he needed to focus.  
  
  
They'd been inside before, so Fenris knows the basic layout of the main building where they suspect Anders must be held. Deciding on a good place to enter, near where they suspect the prisons are, he stops. Making sure no one is around to see him, the elf closes his eyes and presses his hand against the stone wall. The stone is cool beneath his palm and his heart is slightly pounding with anticipation, as he has no way to know what's on the other side. Focusing, he activates his markings and presses forward, easily phasing through the wall like a ghost of lyrium and ending up on the other side.  
  
  
Luckily, he ends up in an empty hallway, leading to a staircase going down into the dungeons. Not hesitating for a moment, he sets off and quickly descends the stairs, moving on instinct. Something is drawing him. The lyrium beneath his skin reaching out to the magic that has touched it before.  
  
  
"Who goes there?!" A rough voice demands as the warrior nears the end of the stone staircase. He moves so quickly, that the guard only sees a glowing blue blur before he is knocked out against the wall. It is not Fenris' intention to kill today. Grabbing the bundle of keys from the guard, he thanks the Maker none of the other guards have heard the disturbance yet and he's hoping fervently that Hawke and Varric are causing enough uproar to have them point their attention elsewhere.  
  
  
"Anders?!" he hisses, insistently but quietly, trying to determine where the blonde might be. When there's no answer, he has no choice but to check every cell. But his attention is immediately drawn to a very specific cell, covered in multiple heavy locks. After so many escapes, they really weren't taking their chances, it seemed. There's a strange sensation beneath his skin which draws him to this cell and however strange the sensation is, he knows Anders is in there. As if being healed by Anders had caused an invisible connection to form. But not one that was demanding and painful, but a feeling of... comfort. For the lack of a better word.  
  
  
Fidgeting with the bundle of keys to open the many locks, the warrior gets frustrated and phases his hand into the locks instead, making them undone way faster than any key could. With every lock that springs open at his command, his heart starts beating faster for some reason. He wants the mage out, and quick. He wants to... no, _needs_ to make sure he is alright.  
  
  
Finally the last lock falls to the ground and Fenris pushes against the heavy door, eager to find the mage and get the hell out of there.  
  
  
And there he is.  
  
  
Relief washes over the elf to see the mage, bound in heavy chains, but alive. But immediately his relief descends into concern. The room is pitch dark, aside from the light from the doorway, now illuminating the room. The blonde doesn't look well. Even though light has finally returned to him, his hollow eyes stare at the stones before him, unresponding.  
  
  
Fenris is at his side instantly. "Anders, are you alright? Are you hurt?" He questions as he tries to assess the situation. But the mage appears to be in some kind of shock, eyes wide and trembling, unable to even acknowledge Fenris' presence.  
  
  
_"Fasta vass..."_ The elf curses under his breath as he inspects the mage himself. There's blood seeping through the mage's front shirt and he finds some dried blood in his hairline too, but there don't seem to be any major injuries. But the pale blonde looks like he could pass out any minute now. "I'm going to get you out of here, Anders. Stay with me." He assures him and turns his attention to the locks. But when he touches the metal, it's like an electrical current runs up right through his markings and he curses loudly as he retracts his hand. Enchanted shackles. He growls and reaches for the keys he'd nicked off the guard earlier.  
  
  
One by one he undoes the chains and quickly catches the taller man's body as he topples forward. This time, their eyes meet briefly and the blonde looks at him, horrified. His lips tremble as if he's trying to say something, but no words come. His shaking pale hands, wrists slightly bruised from the chains, fidget to grab onto Fenris' arm in a death grip, as if letting go would actually kill him.  
  
  
"It's okay, I've got you." The elf assures him, giving one on his hands an assuring squeeze.  But then he sees Anders' eyes roll up as consciousness leaves him and he catches him. "Stay with me, stay with me." The elf tells him and it quickly becomes a mantra as he starts moving them both. He might be smaller than the tall apostate, but he's certainly a lot stronger physically. Lifting the mage up on his back, he quickly starts to move.  
  
  
As he reaches the staircase, he quickly draws back into the shadows as two more guards can be heard walking down the stairs. Once down, they immediately spot the unconscious guard on the floor and hurry over, completely missing the two figures hiding by the side of the staircase in the dark. Taking this opportunity to move, Fenris swiftly but silently starts climbing the stairs, ending up in the deserted hallway where he had entered the building. But it wouldn't be deserted for long, as the clanging of armor can be heard from just outside the hallway. The warrior halts and turns back, but there are shouts coming up from the staircase as well. _Venhedis_. He is trapped.  
  
  
Backing up against the wall where he'd easily phased in through before, he quickly calculates his chances. He has phased through walls before and with practice managed to phase his armor and sword with him as well. But never another person. But he guesses he has no choice now. Grabbing tightly onto the unconscious mage, he channels all his energy to his brands and releases their power with a cry of fury. The searing pain of the lyrium magic burns straight through his skin, his flesh and bone, and even his clothing and armor, to become momentarily intangible. Grimacing, he watches with some relief as it spreads through Anders' form as well. And just before the guards can round the corner, they are gone.  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders have made it out of the Gallows, but what now...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I haven't forgotten about this one, I promise! This is a short chapter, but I promise it gets better after this. I am/was just struggling a bit with keeping the characters in-character for the next bit. I hope you enjoy it! The next chapter will be the last chapter.

Using his powers to phase both Anders and him through the wall had taken its toll on the warrior, leaving him a little lightheaded. Stumbling through the alleyways to get out of the Gallows as quickly as he could carry the mage. The taller man's limp body was heavy on his back, but he gritted his teeth and moved on, trying to reach his mansion as quickly as possible before the Templars could track them down.  
  
  
Then suddenly he nearly toppled them both over when the body on his back regained consciousness and instantly gripped onto him for dear life.  
  
  
  
  
The first thing Anders noticed when his dazed mind momentarily drifted back to the land of the living, was the feeling that he was moving. Fast. And it hurt. Maker, it hurt. With every bump in the way, his injured ribs jabbed painfully and he winced softly. Then other senses were slowly starting to come to and he realized he could see light. Sunlight even. And there was something close to him. Something strong. Something safe. The smell of worn leather and lyrium, with faint traces of wine he had come to know these past few months.  
  
  
_Fenris!_  
  
  
He instantly clawed around himself to grab hold of the one carrying him and held on for dear life, mumbling desperate pleadings not to leave him. He felt the grip on his legs tighten in response and a low, assuring rumbling in the other's chest, but his mind could not register the words, already dragging him back to the darkness of unconsciousness.   
  
  
  
  
Managing to balance them both again, the elf continued on, somewhat relieved to see the mage still had some life in him. The other's pleadings were lost in his white hair, but their meaning was not. He held onto the mage a little tighter. "Hang in there, mage. We're almost there." The grip the mage had on him loosened and he realized the other had blacked out again. This was not a good sign.  
  
  
When they arrived in high town, the sun was already setting and Fenris was at the end of his strength. The lyrium lines under his skin stung painfully from overusing them and he grit his teeth, trying his best to ignore the protests of his body as he pushed on. Using the growing darkness of twilight, he managed to slip into his mansion unnoticed. As soon as his door closed, he quickly locked it behind him and staggered towards the stairs, the mage still on his back. Before, the darkness of his mansion had never bothered him. But now, he was suddenly very conscious about it.  
  
  
Slowly dragging his feet up the stairs, he had rarely been as relieved to see the shabby bed in the corner of the room. Setting the tall apostate down on it as gentle as he could, he quickly tended to get a fire going in the fireplace, to light up the room as best he could. His body ached, but he knew he couldn't rest yet. Anders was still injured and wouldn't be able to heal himself until he woke. Retrieving a bowl of water and his injury kit, he quickly got to work.  
  
  
The elf hesitated a moment as he kneeled by the bed, regarding the blonde's state. He looked abnormally pale, his face slack and covered in tiny speckles of blood. Fenris realized he had never really looked at Anders before. Sure, he knew what Anders looked like, but he had never really _looked_ at him. The blonde was actually kind of handsome. His tanned hands hovered over the man's feathered coat, hesitating once more. He remembered the night in the camp, when Anders, with much reluctance, had allowed him to see what was hidden under the many layers of clothing. He didn't want to undress the other without his consent. He frowned, but then he shook his head and started to undo the buckles of his coat. He didn't have any choice if he wanted Anders to live.  
  
  
Cleaning and dressing the other's wounds the best he could, the elf finally covered the mage up with a tattered blanket and collapsed right next to him. His body was burning and although he knew he should stand guard, or at least move to another place to sleep, his body wouldn't listen. But perhaps he could allow himself this moment of rest.  
  
  
  
  
_He was at the end of a long hallway, with red tapestries decorating the sides. He was walking. Endlessly. Not knowing where his feet were taking him, but walking nonetheless. He wanted to pause, but when he slowed his step, a chill ran up his spine. Turning back, all Anders could see was darkness, engulfing the path he had taken and swallowing it whole. And it was drawing closer. Panicking, he started to run, following the curve of the corridor, darkness nipping at his heels. Then he saw him. "Karl!" he called out as he sprinted towards him, knowing he would be safe. But as he neared him, the grey haired man turned to him, smiling an empty smile. "My love..." His beloved one spoke, the red sun burning fiercely on his forehead, "I've waited so long for you to join me..." And before Anders could dodge, Karl lashed forward, hitting the burning hot metal sun sign right against the blonde's forehead._  
  
  
Turning away sharply, he could feel himself falling. But then two strong hands grabbed him just in time and pulled him back to reality. He awoke, to find himself trembling and sweating from fear, in a bed, with a familiar white-haired elf hovering over him concernedly.  
  
  
  
  
Fenris awoke after what seemed like only an hour to find the mage trashing in his sleep. His mumbling was incoherent, but it was clear the blonde was battling a nightmare. The elf was about to wake him when suddenly the other screamed out and nearly threw himself from the bed, if it wasn't for the warrior catching him.  
  
  
Quickly hoisting him back onto the bed, he searched his eyes. "Mage..." He breathed, not sure what to say. He could feel the taller man tremble in his grip on him, fighting off the fear the nightmare had caused. Once more, Fenris found himself in loss of what to do. He had never had this kind of interaction with anyone, let alone a mage. At these moments he cursed himself. He tried to think back to a long time ago. He had seen how his fellow slaves had comforted each other after a severe punishment. No one had been allowed to comfort him back then, but he had seen them, huddled up together, mumbling reassurances. Would that do for the mage as well? Slowly, and perhaps a bit awkwardly, he shifted them both. Then loosening his firm grip, he let the trembling mage lean against him instead.  
  
  
  
  
Anders could almost not believe what was happening. But at this point, he didn't really care either. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind and together with his physical condition, all he could really do was lean against the warrior's silent strength. He felt miserable and couldn't stop a sob from escaping. In response, he could feel a hesitant hand moving to touch his back, silently holding him.


End file.
